


My Last Breath

by voxofthevoid



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Format, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom!Hannibal, Developing Relationship, Five times Will said Hannibal’s name and the one time he couldn’t, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal cares, Hannigram - Freeform, I’m sorry guys, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, So is Will, Therapy, Top!Will, Tragic Love, True Love, Violence, and he’s in love, beware all ye who enter, kinda rough sex, lousy psychiatry, no encephalitis, only at the end though, sorta - Freeform, the muse made me do it, there will be pain, there’s plenty of both, what is ethics even?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of two men who fall in love with the ideals of their destruction and of fate, whose cruelty knows not the boundaries of man.   </p><p>~They never were meant for happiness~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>“William,” he breathes, far more tenderly that he believed himself capable of, “This is by no means your fault. You are not responsible for Budge’s actions. Moreover, even if you did drag me into this world- which I assure you is not what happened- I would consider it a small price to pay for the luxury of your company.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The look that Will shoots him is a lovely mix of desperate and incredulous and Hannibal finds himself surprised by the sudden urge to kiss him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exasperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verybadidea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verybadidea/gifts).



> For Vic, who was ‘kind’ enough to threaten to kidnap me and lock me in a room to get me to write this. You’re wonderful. 
> 
> I’d like to clarify that these are not the only times Will has said Hannibal’s name, just the most important ones. The focus here is less on the ‘5+1’ format and more on their relationship. 
> 
> Also, _read the tags._ Ahem. Enjoy!!

**Five times Will said Hannibal’s name and the one time he _couldn’t._**  

One: 

It’s just another normal therapy session. Though the fact that remains that the only thing ‘normal’ about these sessions is their sheer abnormality. 

Will, for all that he insists on referring to Hannibal by his proper title, doesn’t treat him like his psychiatrist. And Hannibal most assuredly does not treat Will like he does the rest of his patients whose neuroses and petty delusions pale in comparison to the profiler’s unique mind. 

He allows Will as much autonomy he’s capable of during these sessions, content to simply listen to what he has to say, whether it’s about his involvement with the Bureau or more personal problems. And Hannibal is fully aware of the fact that if it weren’t for his intense fascination with Will, he'd have killed the man without a second thought for his atrocious manners alone. As it stands though, he can’t even bring himself to be irked by Will’s unwitting insolence. Instead, he feels indulgent, like a doting father with his favorite child. 

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Will is extremely rude when scared or defensive… and he is never so defensive as he is when confronted with an uncomfortable topic within the cold confines of these walls. 

Hannibal imagines, as he calmly observes the other’s furious pacing, that Will must feel trapped by the sharp words and the sharper mind directing them, and is reacting in a manner similar to that of a cornered animal; by lashing out. 

It’s Hannibal’s fault of course, for choosing to pursue such a delicate topic on a day when Will is particularly wrung out, exhausted and frustrated. 

A good therapist would retreat now, steering the conversation into safer waters while marking the subject for deeper discussion in the future. A good therapist would know not to push so volatile a patient. A good therapist would play it safe and deem it the appropriate course of action for both parties involved. 

Hannibal is a very good therapist. But he is not at all a good _person_. 

And there is very little he wants more than to _push_ Will, to wind him up and watch him go, to see firsthand how that exceptional mind would react to such provocation. 

So naturally, he does not even entertain the notion of ‘playing it safe’. 

“Will,” he calls, molding his voice into something warm and soothing, devoid of the excitement churning inside him, “You need to calm down.” 

Will comes to an abrupt halt, shooting Hannibal a scalding glare that nearly brings a smirk to his lips. 

“I _am_ calm.” 

Hannibal simply nods amiably even as his gaze lingers pointedly on Will’s hands, clenched into tight fists at his sides, and the beginnings of a snarl curling the corners of his mouth. 

“Of course, I understand that the topic of family is quite a sensitive one for you but trust me, Will, it would be cathartic for you to-”

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Will cuts him off with a jerky shake of his head. “My mother left when I was a kid. I don’t even remember her. Dad raised me as best as he could, which was pretty damn well given the circumstances. End of story.” 

Hannibal remains silent and still as Will glares at him for a solid minute- the anger seems to have eradicated all his reservations about eye-contact and brought a beautiful sheen to the brilliant blue of his eyes- before turning away altogether and stalking off to stare out the window. 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite agree,” Hannibal says softly after another minute and allows himself a fleeting smile at the way Will tenses, his body going utterly rigid. But he does not reply and continues to watch the relentless rain lashing the world outside with his back to Hannibal in a gesture of stubborn defiance. 

Hannibal feels inexplicably fond of him in that moment.

He waits for a few more minutes before rising from his chair in one, smooth motion to steadily make his way towards Will, speaking as he does so. 

“If that truly was all you had to say on the matter, you would not be so defensive, so angry.” 

A harsh breath and a flex of clenched muscles from the man at the window but no other response. 

“Do you know what I think, Will? I think that your anger is not directed at me as you probably believe or even at yourself, but at your past. At the circumstances that deprived you of your chance to have a normal family. A normal childhood.” 

Still no answer though Hannibal can see his body heaving with the force of his breathing. 

“Have you ever wondered whether that is the reason behind your attachment to Abigail? The desire to build a family with one who is as damaged as you believe yourself to be?” 

He’s close now, close enough to _touch_ Will if he chose, close enough to feel the fury and fear emanating off him. Hannibal comes to a stop with barely a foot between them and Will seems to actually stop breathing at his proximity. 

“And I do believe that it will help to talk about it.” 

Hannibal honestly expects Will to cave at some point, perhaps with a few more well-placed words. He doesn’t imagine that the man would be happy about it- far from it in fact- but he does expect Will to ultimately surrender another piece of himself for Hannibal to savor and devour. 

And as always, Will turns out to be utterly unpredictable. 

Will whips around with astonishing speed and Hannibal uncharacteristically freezes on the spot when two large, warm hands come to grip the sides of his face with considerable strength. 

“Hannibal,” Will grits out from between clenched teeth and he doesn’t know what shocks him more, the sound of his name whispered so intimately or the wild, furious light in Will’s eyes. “ _Shut up_.” 

For a moment, Hannibal is aware of nothing but the fingers digging in so forcefully into his scalp and the hot weight of Will’s palms on his face. He can’t even dredge up enough curiosity to override his surprise at witnessing such a feral facet of Will. 

When Will finally releases him as if burned and stumbles back a step, face still set into angry lines. Hannibal acutely feels his absence and the abrupt loss of warmth. 

“Excuse me, Dr Lecter, I think I should leave.” 

Hannibal mutely watches him go, still somewhat dazed, but he does not miss the exasperated yet apologetic look that Will throws him right before he steps out of the office. 

It feels like a long time before his heart slows down to a normal rhythm. 

It takes longer still for the phantom sensation of Will’s hands to fade from his skin. 


	2. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“William,” he breathes, far more tenderly that he believed himself capable of. “This is by no means your fault. You are not responsible for Budge’s actions. Moreover, even if you did drag me into this world- which I assure you is not what happened- I would consider it a small price to pay for the luxury of your company.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The look that Will shoots him is a lovely mix of desperate and incredulous and Hannibal finds himself surprised by the sudden urge to kiss him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, look at that: Fluff!

Two:

    

“I was worried you were dead.” 

Concern lacing the words, terrifying in its sincerity. 

The sharp, stinging dread he’s felt ever since Budge’s ominous words have yet to fade in spite of the fact that Will is now here before him in the flesh, gloriously alive and unharmed save for the lacerations on his palms. The stark terror that filled him at the prospect of Will being dead- lost to Hannibal forever- terrifies him still. It’s undeniable proof that he is _attached_ to this awkward man with his rude manners and sweet smiles; a harsh slap in the face by reality. 

And Hannibal can feel a different kind of fear start to spread inside him at that realization, an automatic response to a lifetime of losing the few things that mattered to him. 

His sister’s face flashes in his mind for a moment and he hears faint echoes of laughter that reminds him of warmth and light and hope. 

He’s only mildly surprised when the young, cherubic face morphs into an older one set with haunted blue eyes. 

He _cannot_ lose Will. 

Right then, Will smiles at him, reaching out to clasp Hannibal’s shoulder as if to simultaneously reassure them both of the other’s continued survival and the fear in his mind recedes, sheer relief taking its place. 

It seems like his attempt to ‘test’ Will only ended up teaching Hannibal something about himself. 

“I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world,” Will tells him and he can see the guilt coloring the younger man’s eyes as he not-so-subtly takes in Hannibal’s injuries. 

“I got here on my own,” Hannibal states, covering the hand on his shoulder with his own. It seems strangely important that Will feel no guilt over this. “But I appreciate the company.” 

Will’s hold on him tightens for a second and the hesitant smile that splits his face warms Hannibal in ways that he’s wary of analyzing just yet. 

Will hovers over him for the entirety of their time in the chaotic office. On anyone else, Hannibal would’ve found the blatant concern annoying. But on _Will_ , it’s endearing. 

It actually is pleasing to see and feel Will worry for him; the knowledge that he feared for Hannibal, cared for his safety, somehow affecting him much deeper than he anticipated. Despite the fact that it’s the effect he’s been trying to cultivate ever since their first meeting, the actuality of it is so very gratifying. Perhaps that is why, when Will offers (although it rings more like a _demand_ ) to drive him home, he accepts with only minimal hesitation. 

They speak very little during the drive though Will does keep looking at him from the corner of his eyes every few minutes as if checking to see whether Hannibal is still there. And Hannibal finds himself smiling at every one of these glances. 

Hannibal assumes that the other man will leave after safely dropping him off at his house. But when Will awkwardly mumbles a quick, ‘Would you like me to help?’, he once again finds himself acquiescing to the needless assistance. 

They are both fully aware that Hannibal is perfectly capable of treating the injuries on his own. Still, the evening finds them both in Hannibal’s living room along with his extensive medical kit. 

Will is conspicuously avoiding looking anywhere near the vicinity of Hannibal’s eyes and though that isn’t all that unusual coming from the profiler, Hannibal finds himself unreasonably irked by the evasion. 

“Will,” he intones and waits until his companion’s attention is fully on him and not wandering before adding the rest, “You do not have to do this. I will be fine on my own.” 

He does not voice the fact that the suggestion to help was Will’s own but the words seem to distinctly ripple in the silence between them. Will shifts, obviously uncomfortable and suddenly unceremoniously throws himself into Hannibal’s couch, burying his head in his hands. Before Hannibal can react in any manner, he unveils his face and finally brings his gaze to Hannibal’s. 

One look into that bright, tormented gaze is enough for him to realize what’s wrong. 

Guilt. So much guilt. 

_Oh Will._

Hannibal inwardly flinches at his own momentary lack of insight for assuming that a few consolatory words would be enough for Will to forgive himself, as he gingerly lowers himself to the sofa beside Will. This is the same man who incessantly endures what is essentially psychological torture for the sake of the lives of mere strangers after all. 

“William,” he breathes, far more tenderly that he believed himself capable of, “This is by no means your fault. You are not responsible for Budge’s actions. Moreover, even if you did drag me into this world- which I assure you is not what happened- I would consider it a small price to pay for the luxury of your company.” 

The look that Will shoots him is a lovely mix of desperate and incredulous and Hannibal finds himself surprised by the sudden urge to kiss him. 

“You were nearly _killed_ , Hannibal. How can our… friendship ever be worth your life?” 

The wide grin stretching Hannibal’s mouth at those words is evidently not the reaction Will was expecting if the answering shock on his face is anything to go by. But he passively allows Hannibal to take the hand fisted in his lap in a gentle hold and tangle their fingers together. Will’s hand feels good in his. _Right._

“You are worth it.” Hannibal assures him, and the softness in his gaze does not have to be faked. “But you need not feel obligated to be here.” 

“No, it’s not that. I _want_ to help,” Will tells him, eyes still locked with his. “It’s just that this is so bizarre, seeing you so… human and vulnerable.” 

Hannibal chuckles at the mumbled words and even Will smiles a little at as if he’s all too aware of how ridiculous he sounds. He’s not that far off the mark in truth but at the same time, Hannibal admits that this hectic day has found him feeling more human than he has in quite a long time. 

“And how do you see me, Will, if not as human?” 

Will grimaces and runs his free hand through his hair, sending the riotous curls into further disarray. 

“I know you’re human. But you have this completely serene aura that makes you seem _more_ , somehow. Unmovable, I guess. Constant.” 

_Stable._

Hannibal’s smile only grows, pleased by the portrayal. 

“Is that what attracts you to me?” he asks, curious and amused, “My stability?” 

Will’s eyes widen almost comically at that, his lips parting in soundless alarm and Hannibal once again finds himself hit by the desire to pull him forward and kiss him until they’re both breathless. The moment is broken when Will abruptly turns his face away. 

“Dr Lecter, please don’t-”

“Hannibal,” he interrupts, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the hand still held securely in his. “We’re friends, Will. Please call me by my name.” 

Will slowly returns his eyes to him and for an instant, he looks like he’s about to protest. Then he sighs, shaking his head with exasperation. 

“Fine. _Hannibal_ , please don’t psychoanalyze me. Let’s… let’s just get you patched up, shall we?” 

“Of course, Will.” Hannibal answers cheerfully and rises off the couch to start unbuttoning his vest. 

He does not see the way Will swallows and unsuccessfully tries to avert his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Will figures it out. He’s not pleased.


	3. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Something must have happened to you,” Will says and Hannibal can’t determine whether its accusation or entreaty that colors his voice._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I happened to me,” he murmurs, wishing that Will wouldn’t ask him these questions when Hannibal cannot give him the answers that he desires._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda fluffy from Hannibal’s side…

Three:

 

The phone call is enough for Hannibal to understand that something is very wrong.

It is Will’s voice that gives it away; it’s _blank_ in a way it has never been before when he demands to see Hannibal as soon as possible, be it at his office or home. And Hannibal finds himself cancelling Miss Frost’s Thursday afternoon session to accommodate Will without a second thought.

It must have been, he thinks as he waits for the man to show, a particularly bad case for Will to sound so unlike himself. He feels a momentary surge of anger towards Jack, the feel of it now familiar from the numerous times he’s contemplated killing the agent for his insensitive treatment of Will.

Once, he would’ve been pleased- excited even- at the opportunity to further study the enigmatic mind of Will Graham when so aggravated. But it has been a long time since selfish curiosity was eclipsed by fierce protectiveness and genuine concern- things that Hannibal has not felt in a very long time and does not expect to feel again for anyone other than his Will.

_It’s strange to be made to feel so human._

The knock comes a little over an hour after the call and Hannibal opens the door with uncharacteristic haste, mouth curved into a smile that’s reserved only for Will.

But the moment his eyes connect with that memorable bright blue gaze, now hard with a steely glint, he _knows_.

Hannibal feels cold all over as he moves aside for Will to enter and has to forcibly clamp his mouth shut to prevent himself from saying anything… unwise.

_Stranger still, for this singular man to strip him off his hard-won control without even trying_. 

He quietly shuts the door and turns around to see Will standing hunched in the middle of the room, facing away from Hannibal.

“Will-”

“Why?”

For a brief moment, he considers playing the fool, forcing Will to openly acknowledge the truth that they both now know. But he can’t quite bring himself to so needlessly cruel, not to Will, and thus settles instead on a tactic that he very rarely employs.

Honesty.

“If you want to hear the reason why I am the way I am… I fear you will be disappointed.”

Will chuckles, a bleak, ugly sound that is a far cry from the sweet, hesitant laughter Hannibal delights in drawing out from him. He turns around to face Hannibal, cold fury etched on his handsome features, warping them into something alien and hostile.

“So you’re telling me that you were born as a cannibalistic serial killer?” Will snaps, hands curling into fists at his side.

Hannibal’s lips purse into a thin line of displeasure at the words. He always knew that Will realizing the truth about him was an inevitability, but he was hoping that the profiler would not be so quick to figure out the cannibalism element and its implications. But of course he did.

_Brilliant boy._

Far too brilliant in fact. And all the more dangerous for it.

The part of him that is all instinct and bloodlust and hunger laments that he should’ve killed this man a long time ago, before he had a chance to worm his way into the charred remains of Hannibal’s heart and take up residence there, that he should’ve ended this at the first signs of attachment instead of letting it grow and grow until even the mere idea of harming Will became so unbearable.

“No,” he replies at length, finding Will’s stare and holding it, reluctantly shedding all pretense and inviting the other to _see_. “But I did grow into one.”

Whatever it is that Will sees, it is enough to bring a look of such acute pain to his face that Hannibal automatically takes a step forward, reaching out before catching himself and pausing. He does not want Will to be afraid of him, not now or ever. But the man himself seems to be weighed down by no such fears, for he stalks towards Hannibal, angry strides eating up the distance between them. Up close, Will’s eyes are twin pools of icy fire, hot and cold at the same time.

“Something must have happened to you,” Will says and Hannibal can’t determine whether it’s accusation or entreaty that colors his voice.

“ _I_ happened to me,” he murmurs, wishing that Will wouldn’t ask him these questions when Hannibal _cannot_ give him the answers that he desires.

Will’s eyes blaze as his lips peel back in an agonized snarl and a dark voice whispers in Hannibal’s mind to do it _now_ , to kill him before he suffers more.

But the voice is faint, the echo of an echo, and without even a shadow of the conviction that grips him when he’s slaughtering those he views as pigs donning human skin.

He does not even attempt to avoid the fist that flies towards him and he thinks, as his head snaps back with the force of the blow and he stumbles back a few steps, that Will is much stronger than he appears.

He anticipates another blow when Will takes a step toward him but rough, beaten hands close around his lapels and Hannibal is pulled forwards until they’re sharing the same breath.

“I trusted you,” Will seethes, his eyes boring into Hannibal’s, “I thought you were my friend, my fucking anchor. What the hell was I to you? A toy? Wind me up and watch me go? Eat me when you got bored?”

A harsh shake and Hannibal finally reacts, clamping his own hands over Will’s, less to stop him than to just hold him in place.

“You were my friend,” Hannibal tells him, “You _are_ my friend.”

_You are the most important thing in my life right now_ , he almost says. 

The words only seem to further infuriate Will, the younger man's face twisting into an expression of agonized rage. Hannibal expects violence; for Will to lash out again with accusations and loathing. 

But he does not expect the kiss.

It’s rough and vicious; a thing of blind fury and twisted desire, but Hannibal welcomes the assault with great shock and nary a resistance. 

And even though the blood and tears, Will tastes perfect. He is everything Hannibal imagined and so much more.

Will’s lips are stained red with blood when he pulls back and he’s never before been so gorgeous.

“I should hate you. Dammit, Hannibal, I _want_ to hate you,” Will whispers like a bleak confession and he sounds so lost, so broken that Hannibal pulls him into a desperate embrace, holding him tight, afraid to let go.

“I know. I am so sorry, Will.” Hannibal mumbles the apology into Will’s curls, pressing his face to them, wondering if this will be the first and last time he’ll be able to hold the other like this.

Will’s hand slowly, hesitantly comes around him, blunt nails digging into clothed flesh and Hannibal feels an inkling of hope stir inside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing? I'm gonna give myself diabetes...
> 
>  
> 
> There won’t be an update next week because I’d like to post the sequel to Particular Hungers instead.


	4. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hannibal, for all his hardcore mental discipline, is not all that certain how they ended up like this. All he can recall with clarity is Will throwing him against the wall mere minutes after he arrived in Will’s house to kiss him deep and rough; a culmination of the fierce tension that’s been nearly palpable between them ever since that critical revelation in his office. The rest is all a blur of searing lips and groping limbs._
> 
>  
> 
> _And now, he’s spread out like an offering on Will’s bed with the man himself looming over him and Hannibal can’t find it in himself to care about the messy, fur-covered mattress or his bespoke suit that lies crumpled on the floor or anything except how hot and right Will feels against him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex, that’s all there is in this chapter.

Four: 

Hannibal is not an ethical man by any definition of the word but there are certain lines he has never crossed with his patients. 

He manipulates them, shapes their minds as he sees fit, cultivates their darkness, nurtures their cruelty… but never once has he so much as touched a man or woman in his care in an inappropriate manner and not for lack of opportunities. 

Until Will Graham. 

At least, he thinks as he arches up against the strong body pinning him to the bed, Will was never officially his patient. 

Hannibal, for all his hardcore mental discipline, is not all that certain how they ended up like this. All he can recall with clarity is Will throwing him against the wall mere minutes after he arrived in Will’s house to kiss him deep and rough; a culmination of the fierce tension that’s been nearly palpable between them ever since that critical revelation in his office. The rest is all a blur of searing lips and groping limbs. 

And now, he’s spread out like an offering on Will’s bed with the man himself looming over him and Hannibal can’t find it in himself to care about the messy, fur-covered mattress or his bespoke suit that lies crumpled on the floor or _anything_ except how hot and right Will feels against him. 

Will’s eyes are _burning_ as he looks down at Hannibal, part-lust, part-something else, and Hannibal pulls him down for a kiss that makes his blood sing within his veins. Will makes a sound in the back of his throat, bearing his hips down, rubbing their erect lengths together and Hannibal moans into the kiss, fingers fumbling against the other’s back. 

“Will. _Will_.” He chants the name like a prayer as Will trails sharp bites down his chin, neck, chest and stomach until he’s hovering with his lips poised right over the flushed head of his cock. A tongue flicks out to taste the tip, Will’s eyes fixed resolutely on Hannibal, and another moan claws its way out of his throat. 

Will swallows him down in one, smooth motion, prompting Hannibal to clutch hard at the sheets in an attempt to not buck his hips into that wonderful warmth. Hands clamp down on his thighs to keep him still as Will starts to suck, working his tongue along the underside of his cock in a way that leaves Hannibal gasping. He’s certain that the noises Will is drawing out of him with his mouth is by no means dignified but he’s too lost in the pleasure of it all to even care. It’s over all too soon and the other pulls away from his cock with a wet sound, crawling up Hannibal’s body with a devious light in his darkened eyes. He can feel Will’s erection digging into the meat of his thigh and is struck by a desire to feel that _inside_ him. 

“Will,” he gasps, “I want-” 

He’s cut off by another kiss that is all teeth, much like their first, only this one’s fuelled less by anger than blind desire. 

“Oh, I’m going to,” Will breathes when they part, lips curved into a cutting facsimile of a smile. 

Hannibal hums in displeasure when Will moves off him to pad across the room towards a small desk in the corner. He gladly rakes his eyes over Will’s exposed body, drinking in the enticing lines of his form in a way he was unable to do in their earlier frenzy. Will grabs something from a drawer and returns, smirking when he sees Hannibal staring. 

He sighs in bliss when Will climbs on top of him again, pressing their mouths together in a light, teasing kiss. He shifts to properly straddle Hannibal, who runs his hands over the well defined muscles of Will’s chest, learning the contours of him as he’s longed to do for so very long. Will smiles at the eager caress and hastily uncaps the bottle of lubricant before pouring a generous amount over his hand, coating his gingers in the clear, viscous liquid. 

Hannibal starts slightly when a cool finger slips between his cheeks to probe against his opening, the sensation strange and largely unfamiliar. 

“Have you done this before?” Will asks, using his free hand to stroke the side of Hannibal’s face. 

“Not like this, no.” 

Will’s lips part in a soft exhale and his eyes shine in a manner that leaves no doubt as to how that answer affects him. 

“Good,” Will rasps, leaning down to kiss him again, making no effort to mask his delight. 

Though he’s expecting it, Hannibal’s entire body tenses up when the finger massaging his entrance slips inside, gently but readily. Will starts to slowly move the digit in and out of him and it feels it strange; unusual but _intense_ , though Hannibal isn’t sure whether it’s the act itself or Will being the one to do it that’s inducing the latter sentiment. 

His eyes, which slipped close at the penetration, flutter open to find his partner watching him intently, appraising his responses with a curious gaze. As careful and patient as Will is being with the preparation, his eyes are dark and heated and _hungry_ , and Hannibal knows that he’s holding back, keeping himself in check for Hannibal’s sake. 

“Don’t be gentle,” Hannibal tells him, gripping him by the nape and pulling him down until their faces are close together, “Don’t hold back.” 

“No, I- This is your first time. I’ll hurt you.” 

It doesn’t escape Hannibal how Will’s eyes flash with yearning at his own words and his mouth curls into a knowing smirk. A part of his mind idly wonders if Will’s desire to inflict pain on him is the result of his knowing _what_ Hannibal is. 

“You want to hurt me.” He takes Will’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, earning a muffled groan. “So _hurt me_.” 

Hannibal suddenly finds himself pressed harder into the mattress, Will attacking his mouth with frantic ardor, his free hand weaving into Hannibal’s mussed hair to grip it tight. In spite of his taunting words, Hannibal groans, muscles clenching, when Will shoves in a second finger, his pace picking up with no amount of the care he exhibited before. 

He’s lost between the dual sensations of the skilled mouth devouring him and the rough fingers spreading him open, pleasure and pain warring for dominion. Hannibal cries out, sharply jerking face away from Will to gasp out his name, when he scissors his fingers to stretch Hannibal wide. Will smiles against Hannibal’s cheek and starts peppering his face with wet, open-mouthed kisses, all the while ruthlessly twisting and curling the digits buried inside him. A third is added far too soon and Hannibal retains just enough clarity of mind to think that Will really took his words to heart. He feels too full, stretched to his limit and try as he might, he can’t stop himself from writhing on the sheets, clutching at Will desperately, nails digging into the sculpted muscles of his back. For his part, Will no longer makes any effort to hide his awed delight at Hannibal’s pain. 

“I thought you wanted this to hurt, Hannibal,” Will whispers, the sound of his voice deep and husky with lust sending a jolt of pure desire straight to Hannibal’s groin and making his cock, which remained erect regardless of the pain, twitch where it rests against his stomach. 

Will’s fingers graze a spot inside Hannibal that makes stars explode behind his lids and he does it again and _again_ until Hannibal is moaning and squirming, torn between asking for more and pleading for him to stop. Before he can make up his mind, the digits are gone, leaving him feeling disturbingly empty. 

He keeps his eyes closed, body fraught with nervous anticipation, as Will pulls away to ready himself. A shaky sigh rushes past his lips when the head of Will’s cock nudges his entrance. Will presses a soft kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, cupping his cheek with one hand. 

“I hope-,” Will murmurs in his ear, in a tone that is soft and soothing in stark contrast to his words, “-that you’ll scream.” 

And he pushes inside Hannibal in one, harsh thrust. 

Hannibal screams, back arching, hands twisting on the sheets as he’s split open from the inside. 

When he calms enough to think past the searing pain, he’s panting and Will is stroking his face tenderly, gazing down at him with a mixture of desire and fascination in his cobalt blue eyes. 

“You are beautiful,” Will tells him, unchecked reverence coloring his voice, “Even in your monstrosity, you’re beautiful.” 

And he thinks that he would let Will ruin and debase and tear him apart, if only he'd keep looking at Hannibal with such fire and worship in his eyes. 

Will starts to move, slowly at first, rocking into Hannibal while covering his face with feathery kisses. Hannibal tangles a hand in the rich brown curls now slick with sweat, tugging none too gently. It’s decidedly strange to feel Will moving inside him and somewhat painful. But pain has never deterred Hannibal from anything and the look in Will’s eyes is more than enough motivation for him to put aside any discomfort and spread his legs further to better accommodate him. 

That seems to be all the encouragement Will seems to need to pick up his pace. He pulls out almost all the way out of Hannibal before pushing back in, fucking him with fast, deep strokes that sends tremors coursing through Hannibal’s body. Will shifts a bit, bracing himself on the bed and leaning down to join their mouths in a sloppy kiss before snapping his hips forward again. The new angle draws a shocked groan from Hannibal, jolts of pleasure spreading through his body to mingle with the pain. They keep kissing, hard and demanding, as Will’s strokes hasten until he’s slamming into Hannibal without reserve, each powerful drive of his hips drawing muffled sounds from them both. 

Hannibal unfurls the hand that was digging into Will’s flesh and tries to reach down between their bodies to fist his own straining erection only for it to be seized in a vice-like grip and pinned to the mattress. 

“Finish like this,” Will hisses, breathless, “Can you do that, Hannibal?” 

Hannibal bites down on his own lips, hard enough to draw blood, and thinks of how he’ll do just about _anything_ if Will said his name like that. 

If his mind retained enough lucidity to rationalize, he'd think of how far he’s fallen and how content he is to be held in thrall by this remarkable man. 

Hannibal cries out when Will twists over him to close his teeth over one pert nipple, worrying it with his mouth. The welcome heat on his chest and the heady feel of Will’s cock inside him steadily builds the pleasure coiling low in his belly, his own shaft rubbing against their bodies with each thrust, the friction both torturous and very much desired. 

Suddenly, Will pulls out and before Hannibal can react beyond a faint grunt of protest, grabs his legs by the calves, bending them until Hannibal is doubled in on himself. Will shoves back inside in a quick, hard stroke, pushing so deep inside that it feels like he’s trying to _crawl_ inside Hannibal-

He comes then, Will’s name a shuddering cry on his lips, clawing at the bedding as his orgasm sears through him. Will follows after, finishing inside Hannibal, face pressed to the crook of his neck as his body shakes with the force of his climax. 

When he more or less comes back to himself, it is to the sound of Will gasping his name to the curve of his neck; a soft, trembling mantra that spreads warmth through the entirety of Hannibal. 

He wraps his arms around his beloved’s prone body collapsed atop him, pressing a tired kiss to his hair. 

_I do not know if this is what they call love… but I feel as if you have devoured my soul and replaced it with your essence. ___

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did a chapter that’s basically rough sex with a touch of sadism turn out kinda fluffy? O_o


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You know… I’ve always been alone.” His lashes flutter for a moment, as if Will is fighting against the urge to close his eyes. Habit- one deliberately acquired to avoid too much intimacy but one that is rendered useless between the two of them. “But I was never lonely.”_
> 
> _Hannibal smiles, understanding all too well how that feels. Standing above and apart from the rest of humanity, far too removed from them to ever truly fit in and losing, in time, any desire to do so._
> 
> _Alone because they are unique. But never allowing themselves to be lonely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff. And some foreshadowing.

Five:

It’s a quiet, pleasant evening spent in the warm familiarity of each other. They’re in Hannibal’s home, tangled together on the couch, twined around each other like two great serpents. 

Hannibal is lying with his face tucked into the crook of Will’s neck, mouth stretched in a content smile when he feels gentle fingers comb through his hair and tug lightly but insistently in an effort to get him to look up. He complies, somewhat disgruntled at being made to abandon the cozy arrangement but more than happy to instead press his lips to Will’s in a lingering kiss. 

Even during the early stages of their relationship- when Will was nothing more to him than a foil for his cruel curiosity- Hannibal was keenly perceptive of the younger man’s moods. Later, as his interest morphed into affection and then into obsessive adoration, he began noticing how Will’s eyes changed with the intensity of his emotions. 

They’re bright and clear now, as blue as the summer sky, holding Hannibal’s gaze with ease, filled with that odd blend of awe and affection. He will never tire of that loving gaze. 

“Hey,” Will says with a smile, leaning over to press a faint kiss on Hannibal’s forehead. 

“Hello,” Hannibal responds teasingly, his voice a mere murmur between the two of them. 

Will’s smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and he traces Hannibal’s mouth with the tip of his finger, a clipped nail scraping over the smooth flesh. He doesn’t say anything else but Hannibal can see the intent in his eyes, can see words waiting to be spoken swimming in their azure depths. He doesn’t ask but he does catch his lips in another long, deep kiss before pulling away with an eyebrow raised in question. Will laughs, fingers dancing over Hannibal’s face with familiarity and fondness. 

It takes a little longer before Will finally speaks, voice pitched low; grave and sincere. 

“You know… I’ve always been alone.” His lashes flutter for a moment, as if Will is fighting against the urge to close his eyes. Habit- one deliberately acquired to avoid too much intimacy but one that is rendered useless between the two of them. “But I was never lonely.” 

Hannibal smiles, understanding all too well how that feels. Standing above and apart from the rest of humanity, far too removed from them to ever truly fit in and losing, in time, any desire to do so. 

Alone because they are unique. But never allowing themselves to be lonely. 

“I know the feeling,” he replies, cupping Will’s cheek with one hand. “A solitary existence. Much more satisfactory than any number of futile attempts to connect with people when you view the world in a way they cannot even hope to understand.” 

Remarkable, how alike they are despite their multitude of differences. And it’s hard to tell these days, which of the two factors tethers them to each other so profoundly. 

A bond forged in fire and blood. 

Apt, for men like the two of them. 

“It was a quiet life. Peaceful.” Hannibal smiles at the words, knowing as he does that they’re both aware of how those are not terms that can ever be applied to his life. But it fits Will’s, or at least it did before he met Hannibal. 

“It’s not peaceful anymore,” Will continues, as if reading Hannibal’s mind but there’s no accusation in his voice. Just thoughtfulness and a hint of amused fondness. Hannibal presses a little closer to him. “But then, I’m not alone anymore either. I have you.” 

Hannibal can’t help the way is smile grows at that, the expression shifting into something warm and tender. Perhaps he looks a little foolish like this, staring at Will like a love-struck fool but he can’t make himself care. 

“It’s hard to tell what is more strange,” he tells Will, “The way you’ve seamlessly integrated yourself into every single aspect of my life or the fact that I can’t bring myself to be even remotely bothered by it.” 

Will chuckles, leaning forward to brush their lips together again. 

“I know the feeling,” he mimics, grinning. 

“And if you were to leave,” Will starts again, face falling a little, not overtly but noticeable still to Hannibal who holds him tighter in silent reassurance. “I’m not entirely sure what I’d do. You are the most important thing in my life. I hope you now that.” 

He’s not ashamed of the way his eyes tear up at the words. Beauty, in his opinion, always warrants emotion. And he has never before witnessed anything more beautiful that his Will in this moment of vulnerable sincerity. 

“I love you,” Hannibal doesn’t even realize he’s spoken until the words are out, hanging thick and heavy in the brief space between them. It’s the first time he’s spoken the words and it’s nearly painful how much he means them. 

Will freezes in his arms, blue eyes widening with what might be shock or pleasure as he stares at Hannibal. 

He is fully aware of the fact that what he calls ‘love’ is not something that most people can understand or even accept. It’s obsessive and possessive, the kind that is nearly destructive in its passion. 

And he knows that if anyone can comprehend it and return it in equal measure, it’s Will. 

Will continues to simply stare at him with eerie intensity for several long, charged moments, seemingly searching for something on Hannibal’s face. Whatever it is that he was seeking, he seems to find it as he breaks into an adoring smile, drawing Hannibal into a harsh, searing kiss that leaves them both breathless when they part. 

“And I love you, Hannibal Lecter,” Will breathes reverently, with the solemn air of one making a vital proclamation, “Always and forever.” 

Hannibal buries his head under Will’s chin, breathing him in and holding him close, adamant to never let go. Their hearts rest against each other, beating in tandem, slow and steady. 

He carves this instant of raw beauty into the deepest chamber of his mind; it’s beautiful and perfect and the brightest moment in his life since his mother handed his five year old self a tiny, squirming bundle and introduced him to his Mischa. 

It’s the happiest he’s been in decades. 

He should have known it couldn’t last. 

He’s never been meant for happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s a cheerful way to end a chapter. Oops? 
> 
> A million thanks to everyone’s who has read, commented, kudoed this story. You’re all amazing! And now, those of you who desire a happy ending, _stop here_. Ignore the last few lines and imagine that Hannibal and Will spent the rest of their lives in sweet domestic bliss. And those of you who want the pain, _carry on _.__


	6. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It must be a dream. Surely it must be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to, uh, make up for all the fluff in the last chapter. Right.  
> Lyrics at the beginning are from the song ‘My last breath’ by Evanescence.
> 
> And a thousand thanks to verybadidea (also lactobacille on tumblr) for helping me whip this chapter into shape:-))

**And the one time he couldn’t…**

 

Holding my last breath, safe inside myself

Are all my thoughts of you

Sweet ruptured light, it ends here tonight

   

_"You know, I’ve been thinking that we should go on a vacation."_

_The words take a moment to register, Hannibal still lost in the lingering effects of his orgasm and wondering distantly how it's even possible for Will to be so coherent so soon. And when they do, he smiles, opening his eyes to find Will watching him intently from where's he's stretched out on the mattress beside him._

 

Nearly a decade spent as an ER surgeon, coolly assessing the most grotesque of injuries and acting accordingly, never once being fazed by the challenges presented. Always proud of his self-control, that uncanny ability to curb his emotions and reactions in a way that no ordinary person should ever be capable of.

But for all his cold composure and analytical skills, Hannibal finds himself desperately questioning reality in that moment.

It must be just a dream, a nightmare because-

 

_"Let’s go some place nice. Away from all this shit. Just us two." Will persists when he does not immediately respond, shuffling a little closer on the smooth satin until their heads are close together._

_Hannibal raises a hand to cup Will's cheek, a thumb brushing along the rough stubble on his chin as he contemplates the very much welcome idea._

 

-because it cannot possibly be real that Will is bleeding to death in his arms.

It must be a dream. Surely it must be.

Hannibal prays to a god that he has never once believed in that this is merely an overly realistic nightmare. That what should have been a simple interview did not go so wrong, that he did not watch Will being struck down by a graceless fool, that his own response did not come far too late to be of any use… that he is not being made to watch _powerlessly_ while Will struggles to breathe through a throat so torn, it was-

“Prašom. Will, prašom.”

He can feel his lips moving, forming frantic pleas but he can’t hear himself, can’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears. Will’s mouth trembles, lips moving in an effort to say something but a torrent of blood is all that comes out and he jerks, his body convulsing where he’s splayed half on Hannibal’s lap and half on the floor.

 

_"Oh? And where do you propose we run off to, Will?"_

_He keeps his tone light in spite of how he is exulting inside at the prospect of going away with Will, leaving behind the dreary rush of both their lives to simply spend some time together. No cases to distract them. No secrets to hound them._

_Just the two of them, as Will said, somewhere far away._

_It's a shockingly appealing image._

 

It’s familiar, the wet sensation of hot blood sluicing over his fingers but for once, the sight brings neither perverse comfort nor malicious pleasure to Hannibal - just a driving need to make it _stop_.

He tries, again, to hold the ragged wound on Will’s neck closed, ruthlessly killing the cruel voice in his mind that whispers how futile the attempt is, and pleads in an incoherent blend of languages for him to just _hold on, please_. 

 

_"We are not ‘running off’. We’re taking a break. As for where we’re going, you tell me. We both know you’re better off choosing the place."_

_Will doesn't quite roll his eyes but it is there in his voice, exasperation mingling with affection. He seems to be trying not to smile but regardless of the effort, his lips curl up at the corners in the beginnings of a familiar grin._

 

Will’s eyes are wide and blue, riddled with pain and something that is perilously close to resignation. His mouth keeps moving, vainly endeavoring to form words, but only the slick noises of wet coughing penetrate the soundless screaming in Hannibal’s ears.

“Stay with me, Will.”

A hand, bloodied and shaking, rises to feebly rest on his cheek and Hannibal catches it with the one not on Will’s throat, turning his face to press an urgent kiss on the trembling palm and tasting bitter blood.

“Don’t leave me.”

“H- Han-” is all Will manages to choke out before another fit of bloody coughing seizes him, his body shuddering violently. And Hannibal feels pure, unyielding terror seize him.

 

_"I would like to take you to Italy." Hannibal tells him after a few more moments of consideration. France is a tempting option but there are memories staining that land, ones he has no wish to taint their time of peace with._

_They can revisit the past later. After they've lived their present._

_There's no rush anyway. They have all the time in the world._

 

Decades spent in virtual isolation, plagued by the company of inferior swine, weary of the absolute banality of life.

Until Will came into his life and unfroze whatever remained of his soul. It’s unthinkable to even consider losing him.

Will’s ragged breaths turn into shallow gasps, his hand going limp in Hannibal’s grip. His eyes never leave Hannibal and the intense adoration in them feels like a stake through his heart.

“Please.”

 

_Will pulls Hannibal into a chaste kiss, sighing against his smiling lips._

_"Italy it is then. I’ll tell Jack after we wind up this case. He will bitch about it but I’m sure he’ll concede. Eventually."_

 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“Han-” It’s more of a faint breath than a word and then Will stills against him, the savage tremors finally ceasing.

He is not _breathing_.

And he doesn’t so much as stir when Hannibal presses frenzied kisses on the clammy skin of his face, murmuring hopeless entreaties with every harsh breath. A weak whimper falls from his lips, a lost and helpless sound.

Will’s eyes are dull and unseeing when Hannibal pulls back to look at him.

Hannibal feels a scream claw its way up his throat to perch right under his chin, suffocating him.

It's cold all of a sudden, as if blood has become icy splinters in his veins. So cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, so sorry.  
> *hides*
> 
> *Edit  
> I just realized that the vagueness of the circumstances that caused Will's death might be confusing to some readers. Since this is written from Hannibal's POV of Will dying mingled with a flashback, I can't really include it in a more clear manner in the narrative.
> 
> So basically, they were visiting/interviewing a murder suspect and the guy panicked and attacked Will, injuring him fatally. I slipped in a few lines to hint at this and I'm sorry it's so vague.

**Author's Note:**

> Weekly updates unless life messes with me. :-) 
> 
> _Kudos are love. Comments are true love._ Come say hi on [tumblr](http://silverangelfeathers.tumblr.com).


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